Heatwave
by AMiserableLove
Summary: Prompt fic. Storybrooke is experiencing a summer heatwave, leaving the residents of the small town hot and bothered...in more ways than one ;) Strong T could go up. Originally posted on tumblr, posted here per request.


_Anonymous asked you: _

_ Prompt for SEXY TIMES! Killian comes across Emma on a hot summer day eating a popsicle and is flustered, becuz ya know ;) and for REASONS! his thoughts take a sudden dive. _

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT**

**Review please!**

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Storybrooke was in the middle of a heat-wave.

And it was hot.

Very hot.

_Too hot._

The kind of hot where people rarely dared to venture outside the confines of air conditioning—the sweltering temperatures taking the breath away, slowing movements, and frying the brain. It had been unbearable for the past week or so—the residents of Storybrooke, wandering around sluggishly, almost as if in a thick fog, wilting and lazy under the unyielding sun.

Wiping his brow of the thin line of sweat that had gathered there, Killian cursed the heat silently, his lungs rejecting the stifling air, his body protesting the beating sun. He felt as it had run into a thick wall of unforgiving heat. Just barely past nine in the morning, the air was heavy and hot, temperatures threatening to reach record breaking highs once again. Walking by Granny's diner, his mouth quirked up into a smirk as he saw the tall and leggy barmaid standing outside fanning herself for a moment as she carefully wrote out the daily specials on a board outside the front door—her clothing tight and short, the flimsy garments did little to hide her body

And a hell of a body it was.

Looking her up and down for a moment, he continued on his way, nodding here and there to the townsfolk who were polite enough to acknowledge his presence—kind enough not to scowl at him while jumping out of his way, fearful he'd run them through on the spot. Brushing the trickling sweat from his forehead again, he muttered another colorful profanity, unsure if he had ever experienced heat this stifling in all of his three hundred plus years.

It was bloody near unbearable.

Coming across the sheriff's station he paused for a moment, picturing the feisty blonde who was most likely tucked away inside, pouring over trivial complaints about loud noises and jewelry gone missing. And considering the sheriff's sea-green eyes scrunched in frustration, her golden curls damp with sweat, and that sharp and clever mouth waiting to lash out with insults, he abruptly made a beeline for the building, figuring he would rile her up with some witty banter before heading back to his ship to cool down—the sea breeze a welcoming and promising thought.

Pushing the door open, a grin on his lips and a flirty endearment ready for her, he stepped into the station, stopping short, unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

Emma was leaning back in her chair, legs propped up on the desk in front of her, eyes closed, hair pulled back—a few escaped tendrils gently framed her face, curling softly from the heat. Taking in the sight of her, Killian felt his good hand clench into a fist as he continued to let his eyes roam over her, scarcely believing what he was witnessing.

She was eating a cold and peculiar treat he had seen her with once before—an odd dessert she had referred to as a _popsicle_. Although watching her enjoy it outside of Granny's diner with her son and parents in tow hadn't been anywhere close to the same experience he was currently witnessing before him now.

He was quite certain what he was observing was downright sinful.

Her face was relaxed, her expression nearly sensual; slowly her tongue darted around the sweet treat, lazily licking and leisurely enjoying. Drawing the popsicle into her mouth, she began to move her lips about it, twirling the stick and swirling her tongue—around it, over it, under it; her clever mouth savoring it. Watching as she continued to work it with her lips, he felt his jaw go slack; his pants quite suddenly felt uncomfortably tight.

It nearly became too much.

But, enthralled, enraptured, ensnared, he found himself unable to look away.

When she began alternating between licking up and down the sides and bringing the entire popsicle into her mouth, it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to stalk over to her, rip the thing out of her hand and take her then and there; driving into her hard without thought or preamble.

He'd give anything to taste those sweet red lips.

With a wince, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the cruel and vivid images of her writhing and moaning beneath him, the thoughts only succeeding in riling him up even further.

Of course he had pictured being with her before—too many times to count—but it had always been on _his_ terms, it had always been _him_ seducing _her._ And he still had every intention of getting his Swan into bed, of that there was no doubt, but he bloody well planned on making it happen his way, not because the girl had a fetish for sweet treats and a habit of eating them in a way that was positively immoral.

She let out a contented sigh; one that he swore was just short of a moan, the sound interrupting his thoughts and drawing his reluctant and rapt attention back to her. Watching as she began her wicked routine of sucking and licking again, the popsicle disappearing into her mouth before reappearing once more, his body tensed tightly, brimming with sudden awareness. _Lick, swirl, suck, twirl, lick, suck, suck, lick_—she was driving him mad, and the infuriating minx wasn't even trying.

Swearing softly under his breath, he unsuccessfully attempted to suppress a groan, the small sound resembling a harsh and broken grunt. And with the slight noise, her eyes fluttered open. Hazy and unfocused, gradually they landed on him—slowly careful wariness edged its way into her gaze.

"Hook." she said his name quietly, soft confusion lacing her tone, slight uncertainty flashing in her eyes.

"Hello darling," he couldn't deny the somewhat husky note of his voice, and watching as her eyes widened fractionally, he wondered if she had heard the lust and want woven through the endearment.

"What—what are you doing here? What do you want?" she asked in a somewhat dull voice, the question faltering slightly.

Staring at her, her lips stained red and glistening from the sweet and sinful treat, he knew there were a great number of things he wanted from her, first and foremost that clever and knowing mouth on his body.

"Just thought I'd stop by for a chat sweetheart." He attempted, trying his hardest to sound nonchalant.

She looked unconvinced and shooting him a suspicious glare, she frowned at him, before glancing down at her hand, her eyes considering the popsicle in her grasp. Leaning back again she began to suck on the treat, less sensual this time, but the action caused his pulse to race all the same. Her eyes on his, she watched him unblinkingly, a tiny slurping sound or two escaping her lips.

"Good gods Emma," Killian muttered unable to look away from her, his tone hoarse and gruff.

She paused in her actions, her tongue halting on the treat for a moment, she furrowed her brow—her eyes crinkling slightly with the effort. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, before resuming her tantalizing task again—licking the popsicle once, then twice, her tongue slowly rounding its way about it.

"It's as if you're begging me to…" he trailed off trying to collect his thoughts, "if I didn't know any better I'd say you were inviting me to."

"Hook…what the hell are you talking about?" Her lips quirked into a reluctantly amused smile while her eyes roamed his face for answers, "you're not making any sense."

At her words, the clear uncertainty in her tone, the slight sound of exasperation in her voice, Killian straightened, his hazy lust-filled mind clearing. Taking a step back and then another, he shook his head, watching as she stared at him hard, the popsicle seemingly forgotten for the time being.

_Bloody hell._

She hadn't a damn clue what he'd been referring to, her face a mask of complete innocence, her eyes full of curiosity—she was completely unknowing to the depraved and decadent thoughts she had so easily drawn from him. And silently cursing himself, he took a another step back, both annoyed that he found her so damn desirable and embarrassed that the blonde enchantress had caused him to nearly lose his bearings.

Over a sodding dessert!

Turning from her, he made a move to walk out of the building, his mood suddenly sour, the desire to banter with her gone. "Tis nothing lass…I'll just be going now…"

"That's it…that's all you've got today? No lewd remarks or innuendos?"

Tossing a look over his shoulder, attempting not to focus on her still red and shiny lips, he flashed her the brightest grin he could manage—the task proving harder than usual with his heart still beating fast and his pants still uncomfortably tight.

"If you're looking to be entertained Emma just say the word and I'll gladly keep you company." Shooting her a wink, he noted the way she rolled her eyes, even as a hint of a smirk ghosted across her lips.

"Nevermind, just—just get out of here, I've got mountains of paper work to get to."

He grinned at that; the tight smile across his lips feeling forced and fake. "Ahh of course…I wouldn't want to be getting in the way of the town's sheriff doing her duty, Storybrooke would likely collapse and crumble without your unwavering presence.

Scowling at his somewhat sarcastic words, she rolled her eyes again, before bringing the popsicle back to her lips. Watching as she drew it slowly into her mouth, he clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes, dimly wondering if perhaps she knew exactly what she was doing. And unwilling to let her have the upper-hand, unwilling to let her best him _again_, he gave her a mock bow before moving towards the door once more, thinking about the healthy dose of rum that most definitely would be consumed once he returned to his ship—even as his thoughts carefully considered the next time he caught her alone, the different ways he could make her pay for her unintentional offenses.

"Until next time Swan," he tossed over his shoulder as carelessly as he could manage, before strolling out of the station without a backwards glance.

And because he refused to look back, afraid that if he did he would show his hand to her, giving her the advantage and losing the control he so craved—he missed the slow and knowing smile that spread across her mouth, the flash of amusement and desire that sparked in her eyes and the deep and shuddering sigh that escaped her lips.

Emma Swan was fully and consciously aware of what she'd done.

And she had thoroughly enjoyed it.

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**Review?**

**I may add a second part later! More teasing from Emma or possibly payback from Hook :)**


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